Death of an Innocent
by dantesdarkqueen
Summary: Why did Shelke become an emotionless husk? Why did she speak to Nero with such venom? Did something happen between them, before they were Tsviets? Rapefic. Don't like, don't read.


**Summary: **Certain events in our lives can steal away our hearts, our personalities, our very souls. Pain and fear, a decade of horror, or even a single night from your darkest nightmares...

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters mentioned herein. They are all in Dirge of Cerberus, and as such belong to Square Enix.

**Queen's Quornor: **I've been putting off writing this for several months now. First of all, because I just know it's going to get flamed. Secondly, I was hoping it was just a plotbunny that was going to die a quick death. I mean, this is definitely not what I normally write. I can do horror and gothic-style writings, and often do, but this particular subject is not something I cover on a regular basis. However, a few months ago when I was playing DOC, the scene with Shelke and Nero came up, and suddenly I got to wondering why there seems to be some emotion behind her speech during the pre-fight dialogue. I mean, listen to her; there sounds like a touch of venom in her voice. The playful tone in Nero's voice after Shelke powers up her lightsabers, the callousness with which he refers to the crew... It made me think that he's used to controlling people, and getting his own way. And after all, why wouldn't he be? He's Weiss' brother, and from the sound of it his lover as well; of course he'd have almost as much control over the rest of Deepground as the Immaculate Emperor. Putting their reactions to each other in context together, I came up with this scenerio. I immediately discarded it, but it won't stop haunting me whenever I play the game. So I figured, why not? Maybe writing it down will get it out of my head.

The Death of an Innocent

"It can't be..."

Shelke gazed around the engine room, feeling her heart plunge into her stomach. The crew was gone, vanished into thin air. The enormous gears and copper-toned machinery the kept the _Shera _in the air was being eaten away by nebulous clouds of violet-black energy, a sight she knew all too well...

She wasn't really surprised when she heard his soft, velvety voice behind her. "Fancy meeting you here, Shelke."

"You..." The youngest Tsviet turned to face him, careful to keep a little distance between them. The last thing she wanted was for him to get his hands on her again.

Nero the Sable stood beside the doorway, his stance indicating relaxation. He did not feel threatened by her. "Quite unexpected."

Shelke swallowed the bile accumulating in her throat. How she despised this man... "Why did you come here, Nero?" she demanded, regaining her emotionless composure. The uncaring facade she had adopted after he...

"Why? I was short a few souls, and came to collect."

_And to think, that I once found him handsome... _

"What did you do with the crew?" It was a rhetorical question. She knew full well what he did with them. Nero did the exact same thing with Deepground soldiers who had angered him or displeased him for some reason.

The masked man arched his back, laughter escaping his lips. Or rather, his mind. Nero had developed the ability to speak telepathically after Restrictor, the original leader of Deepground, had put the mask on him. "Need you ask? Look around. My mission is complete."

"Oh..." Shelke looked to the side, a patch of red catching her eye. Cait Sith was sprawled on the ground, motionless. She knew he was no more than a stuffed robot, but still...

He had been a friend, of sorts. Very few people in her life had ever been nice to her. Most of the airship's crew had either ignored her or whispered snide comments about her when they thought she wasn't looking. Vincent, Reeve, Cid, and Cait Sith had been the only people on-board who had treated her like an actual human being. Yuffie was still mad at her, and Shalua...

Azul had taken her sister, and now Nero had taken Cait Sith, along with the engine crew. It might be too late for the _Shera_, but she wouldn't let him absorb Cid and Reeve as well.

_Perhaps I can finally pay him back for that night, at long last... _

Her energy lances were in her hands before the thought was complete. Shelke steeled her nerves, knowing that what she was about to attempt might well be classified as suicide. Nero tilted his head to the side, crimson eyes indicating amusement. "And what do we think we are doing?" he inquired.

"I...really don't know. However..." She looked at him, feeling all the years of resentment and hatred welling up in her heart, memories of a single night foremost among them. Gazing up at him, she was struck by how close in appearance we was to Vincent Valentine. _They could almost be twins. _

How was it that one had almost gotten himself killed in the attempt to help her and return her to her only remaining family, was even now counting on her to guide him into the Deepground complex, while the other had ever been a harbinger of pain and despair, had ripped away her very soul?

_You're not going to control me ever again. _

"Since coming here, I have realized one thing." She flicked the switches on the hilts of her lances, making them thrum with power. "I don't want to let down anybody who's counting on me."

Her lances were unique in Deepground. In addition to being formed of pure electricity, they could cut through anything, be it flesh, bone, or steel. It would only take a few solid hits, and she would finally have her revenge.

Nero, however, was not taking her seriously. Weiss had been the only Tsviet who had ever appreciated her talents, who actually listened to her. Now that he had ordered her execution, however, she had no allies in Deepground. Not that Nero had ever been an ally, anyway. "Pure nonsense," he declared.

"Nonsense? Perhaps." _You can do this, Shelke. _She launched herself at him, hoping to catch him off-guard with her sudden attack.

No such luck. The masked man ducked and dodged her attacks, his grace that of a dancer rather than a fighter. The straps holding his arms unfastened, allowing the hands to come down from their strait-jacket position, and Shelke had to remind herself of what she was fighting for. He was about to get serious.

_Even if I die, all he's doing is discarding the husk. _

Nero already killed her, six years ago...

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_Shelke stiffly walked to her assigned barracks, looking forward only to sleep. The weight-training program was absolute murder, making her fully aware of muscles she wasn't even aware she had only a few minutes after she was told to begin. At least they had decided she didn't have to report to the mako showers more than once today. As much as she depended on the stuff to survive, it was still not a pleasent experience. _

_"Restrictor released you from training early, I see." _

_She smiled, instantly recognizing the smooth voice. She might be physically stuck at age ten, but that didn't mean she wasn't immune to the phenomenon known as 'crushing.' This man was the most gorgeous specimen in Deepground. "Hey, Nero." _

_The black-clad man emerged from the shadows, his expression indicating welcome and pleasure. Shelke felt a thrill travel through her body at the thought that Nero might be happy to see her. "Where are you off to?"_

_"Bed. I'm sore." She considered him for a moment. "Aren't you supposed to be at the firing range?"_

_Nero shrugged. "I left a copy at the range. Restrictor can never tell the difference between my copies and myself." He smiled, a slow spreading of his lips that sent a chill down Shelke's spine. "Do you want someone to go to bed with you? It will be so lonely in the barracks by yourself... Your bunk-mates will not return for several hours yet."_

_Shelke stepped back from him, suddenly uneasy with this situation. "No thanks, Nero. I'll be fine." _

_"Nonsense, Shelke. A lovely young lady such as yourself should never be alone."_

_She stepped around him, intending to get away, but he reached out and caught her by the arm. "Let go of me!" she shrieked, trying to pull away from him. It was no use; as slender as he was, Nero was still unbelievably strong. "I'll scream!"_

_He chuckled, a truly wicked sound. "Nobody will hear you. Or if they do, they will not come. Screaming is extremely common in our private hell." _

_She struggled against his hold as he dragged her down the hall towards her barracks, howling for somebody to help her, praying that for once somebody would actually care enough to at least investigate the source of the disturbance. _

_It was all for naught. The slender man threw her into her assigned quarters, hard enough that her head cracked against the far wall, stunning her. While she tried to figure out which way was up, he jammed the door shut, preventing her escape and the chance that someone would interrupt them. That done, he slowly walked towards her, his gait that of the victorious predator. Shelke, unable to resist, found herself hauled up and laid on a bed - _her _bed. _

This can't be happening. Not to me. No!

_"Nero, stop!" she begged. "Please, don't do this!"_

_"And why shouldn't I?" he replied. "I am a higher class than you, your superior and your elder. You heard Restrictor; the higher-classes soldiers have absolute control over the lower classes. We can make them do whatever we desire, and they cannot resist our demands." With one lightning-fast move, he tore her boots and bodysuit off of her, tearing the material into strips and binding her hands to the metal rails of the headboard with them. Now she could move, but she couldn't get away, and she could only curl her body tightly as he removed his bodysuit and climbed atop her. _

_"Ssshhh," he mockingly soothed. "This will feel quite pleasent soon enough, Shelke. Just have patience."_

_Shelke whimpered, seeing how big his cock was. He was going to tear her apart! _

_Nero grinned sadistically and forced her legs apart, turned on by her terrified pleas for him to stop. A moment later, his hips rammed forward, and Shelke screamed in agony as he forced his cock deep inside her tiny passage. She had been told that it hurt to lose one's virginity, but this was not what she had been expecting. The pain was so bad, she felt her stomach lurch. Nero laughed as she twisted her head to the side and vomited all over her arm and the blanket. _

_"I told you this would feel nice," he taunted, sliding back and forth. Her blood provided all the lubricant he needed, enabling him to glide over the abused and torn tissues with ease. "And you were a virgin." A particularly hard thrust, punctuated by her agonized scream. "Welcome to womanhood, Shelke."_

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She had changed after that. Prior to her rape, she had clung to memories of her old life, hoping that someone would find her and liberate her from Deepground. Shalua, perhaps, or somebody else. But after Nero had left her broken and bloody, filled with his seed, naked on her own bed, she had relinquished it all. Her hopes, her dreams, her prayers...

Even her soul.

Shelke had become an emotionless husk once the nightmare was over. Nobody had commented on her sudden change of character. Nobody had even noticed that she sometimes stared at Nero, her eyes dead. The older soldier had never commented on it, had never touched her again. He had broken her, and they both knew it.

Sitting at a table in 7th Heaven, she merely stared at her cup of tea, listening as Yuffie and Vincent (well, mostly Yuffie) recounted the ex-Turk's battles against Nero the Sable, the entirety of AVALANCHE hanging on their every word.

"Hey Shelke, you fought against him too, didn't you? What was it like?" Denzel asked, turning everyone's attention to the sole remaining member of the Tsviets.

She shifted, uncomfortable with being the object of so much attention. "It was...fast," she finally admitted. "I do not think I managed to strike him. His darkness swallowed me before I could do any damage."

"Oh." The boy looked disheartened, but quickly returned his attention to his idol, Cloud, when the swordsman began describing his battle against Rosso the Crimson. Utilizing the moment, Shelke slipped out of her chair and outside, out of sight. Leaning against the wall, she sighed, rubbing away tears as the hated memories of her rape surfaced anew.

"Shelke?" She looked up to see that Vincent had followed her. "Is something wrong?"

"It's..." She sighed. "It's nothing."

His crimson eyes were steady on her. "What happened between you and Nero, Shelke?"

She stiffened, then felt emotions well up inside her. _Real _emotions.

Vincent didn't seem all that surprised when she rushed him and threw her arms around his waist, sobbing into his shirt. She barely felt his arms, his cloak, wrap around her comfortingly. Six years' worth of surpressed pain was spilling out of her in torrents, the entire story being choked out into his stomach, revealing the trauma that had taken her innocence, killed her soul.

Vincent merely held her, her sorrow rising into the night.

Some of the wounds she had incurred in Deepground, it seemed, would never be truly healed. But he would help her as much as he was able.

As a good friend should.


End file.
